


Untitled

by snoqualmie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9384086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoqualmie/pseuds/snoqualmie
Summary: They don’t really fit in the bath together anymore but they’re tucked into it anyway, knees knocking where their legs are nudged together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> un-beta'd emotion dump

Being sore after physical therapy is normal. The therapy will work it all out over time—anywhere from a few months to a year, dependent on how the body takes it. There are limitations on how that part of the body can be used, how often and how intensely. It’s definitely getting better, though, even faster than they thought it would. Tooru wants to grin and be happy at the news, but he’s tired. He’s tired of limping up the stairs after a rough practice, he’s tired of salt baths and hot packs and doctors prodding at his leg and Iwaizumi’s eyes locked on him from the other side of the net when he goes to serve. It’d be so much easier to not think about it but Tooru can’t get out of his head.

“Get out of your head,” Iwaizumi says.

Tooru scowls and glares at Iwaizumi, “Can you actually hear my brain?”

“Yeah. It’s loud.”

Tooru feels fingers on his thighs and makes a conscious effort to relax his body.

“Why do you always know?” Tooru asks.

“Think about something else,” Iwaizumi says instead of answering, head lolling to the side. His eyes slide fully shut and he takes a deep breath. “Or nothing.”

“I’m trying."

Iwaizumi hums and Tooru watches his face, slack and peaceful.

Tooru wants to be pissed off and he wants to do something about everything that’s building up in him but every circle Iwaizumi traces saps a little bit more of the agitation out of his bones. They don’t really fit in the bath together anymore but they’re tucked into it anyway, knees knocking where their legs are nudged together. They used to do it all the time when they were young. Tooru has vivid memories of a young Iwaizumi’s hair plastered to his forehead and plastic dinosaurs stacked along the edge of the tub.

Now there are no dinosaurs but the room smells like sandalwood and there’s the promise of Iwaizumi’s mother being out for at least a couple more hours. Iwaizumi is slumped down into the water like he's about to fall asleep. It wouldn't be the first time. The bubbles smell like sweet pea and Tooru’s got his bad knee stretched out, foot flat against the cool tile of the wall behind Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi’s hands are smoothing up his legs, curling in and sliding across the skin of his inner thighs. Tooru takes a deep breath. He can see up Iwaizumi’s nose. He can see the column of his throat, the jut of his Adam’s apple.

The line of his jaw isn’t as round as it used to be. They’re getting older.

Things are changing but Iwaizumi is a constant.

He’s solidly lodged right in the middle of Tooru’s chest. A partner in crime, a partner on the court. Iwaizumi is volleyball until they throw up. Iwaizumi is awful jokes and a hiccuping laugh when he’s had too much beer. He’s a stack of superhero comics on a bedside table.

Iwaizumi is little baggies of goldfish crackers that appear out of nowhere. Iwaizumi is tough love and calloused fingers brushing over his knee. Broad palms and ruddy blush that spreads all the way down to his chest. Iwaizumi is absent-minded touch, fingers across the back of Tooru’s neck, feet pressed together under the table. He’s a smile a mile wide, toothy like it’s always been and honest as ever. Iwaizumi is a thumb held up from across the room when Tooru gets a higher grade than him on a math test. 

He’s a heart-on-his-sleeve type of love, open and honest in his frustration and in his confessions. Sometimes they’re loud and come with a squeeze of the hand that’s a little too firm. Most of the time they’re soft-spoken on walks home from school or underneath blankets. _I’ll—I would tell my dad, maybe, if he called._

Iwaizumi is comfort and warmth and stretching out in warm dirt after the sun has set. A worn out copy of that book he’s read fifteen times resting on the corner of his desk. Iwaizumi is their clothes on the floor and the burning hot contact between their bodies. 

Tooru is in love. It gets stuck in his mouth when Iwaizumi’s curled up on the couch with his nose stuck in a book. It comes out too jokingly after Iwaizumi brings him curry from his favorite place all the way across town or shows up to meet Tooru for morning practice with hot cocoa.Tooru feels it all the way down to his toes despite the fact that he can’t say it properly. It fills up his chest and makes his fingers cold. Iwaizumi’s fingers are rubbing back and forth over Tooru's knees like little windshield wipers and it feels so good that Tooru wants to cry. He does, just a little bit, and if Iwaizumi hears him sniffling, he doesn’t say anything. He just keeps touching Tooru’s legs, he keeps breathing slow and steady, which makes Tooru want to cry all over again.

There are days where Tooru can’t breathe Iwaizumi in deep enough, face buried in the curve of his neck or in his hair, days where Tooru is overwhelmed with just how much he loves Iwaizumi. Today turned into one of those days as soon as Iwaizumi had nudged him into the bathroom for a shower after his physical therapy. Iwaizumi knows everything Tooru doesn’t want anybody to know and he’s still grinning and shampooing Tooru’s hair after a shitty therapy session. He knows exactly where to dig his fingers to make Tooru laugh, knows exactly how hot he likes his tea. He knows how nasty Tooru can get when he’s too tired, too stressed, too worried about something because there’s always _something._

And there are a lot of things that Tooru definitely deserves, he’s earned them with an awful combination of sweat and tears, but he doesn’t know what he did to deserve someone like Iwaizumi. He can feel his breathing start to hitch so he clenches his jaw and tries to match his breathing to Iwaizumi’s. He leans his head back against the wall of the bathroom and blinks until his eyes aren’t blurry anymore. It takes a long moment but eventually his mind quiets itself enough for him to relax again. He sighs.

“Are you thinking about nothing yet?” Iwaizumi asks, peeking an eye open.

“Yeah.” Finally. Tooru spreads his hands out just under the surface of the water.

Iwaizumi finds them, somehow, and twists their fingers together.

“Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> /deals with my feelings by writing them into an iwaoi


End file.
